


Missing the Memo

by gaytriangle



Series: My True Love Gave To Me... [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon Divergent, F/M, First Meeting, Fluff, V confused Brienne, V flirty Jaime, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 10:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17098802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytriangle/pseuds/gaytriangle
Summary: Brienne of Tarth is no beauty. No one ever asks her to dance save for a joke. It appears that Jaime Lannister missed that memo.





	Missing the Memo

Brienne had never been under the impression that she was any great beauty. Maybe, perhaps, when she was young: before she grew into those broad shoulders and stocky build that could put any grown man to shame. It was only made worse when she was forced into the gowns and glamor of her station. 

She loved little Shireen Baratheon, but her wedding was slowly becoming hell. The dress code was an oddly specific remnant of her new husbands lifestyle, so Brienne found herself in the type of dress that would looked glorious on almost every other woman in the room: cinched waist and flared skirt, perfect for almost anyone’s curves. The only thing Brienne liked about it was the colour, Tarth blue, and the belt she could buckle her blade in.

She was tempted to use the blade by the time dinner was over. Several fouler residents of the Stormlands had attempted to ask for her hand in a dance already, and judging by the pitying glances Renly kept sending her way, there was no kindness in it. She would have assumed that anyway. Who on earth would ask Brienne the Beauty? 

“Are you sure I can’t have this dance?” The grinning fool standing next to her was obviously the Kingslayer, and he didn’t even have the honour to act like he wasn’t teasing. At her refusal, he put on an over exaggerated frown. “Please, my lady, you can trust that I’m armless.” He wiggled the fingers on his remaining hand. It was vaguely infuriating to see how untouched he was by anything that’d bother a better man. 

“I am not your lady. Bother someone who would appreciate it.” She kept her eyes firmly fixed in the horizon, letting them mist over as she sipped her drink, but his voice still cut through. It was utterly unfair, how it was chocolate smooth and just as rich in spite of everything. His chuckle was just as delectable. “And hear I was, thinking you appreciated me, Lady Tarth.” 

Brienne could feel the shock written on her face, and he shrugged. “You’ve got a crest on that shortsword. It’s a beautiful one, by the way. You any good with it?” She appreciated a quick mind, but his tone made her bristle. “I need something beautiful with me. Not as beautiful as the look on your face when you hit the dust, though.”

Gods, did anything stop his infernal grin? “All a lass needs in life is needs in life is a beautiful sword and a beautiful brain. I’d stare up at you from the dirt any day. That more your speed of dancing?”

Brienne blinked. She nodded, slowly, with the surreal impression that perhaps she had dreamed the whole damn wedding. “My father promised me I’d never manage a man who couldn’t beat me blade to blade.” Was it her imagination, or did he look both impressed and disappointed? “I doubt I stand much of a chance anymore, then. Pity.”

Brienne hesitated, for one more second. Then, she took him by the arm. “Let’s find out. Dance with me, Ser Jaime?”


End file.
